Gratitude Monday: A tragic high-tide accident

During my morning walk on Saturday I listened to Scott Simon interview architect Renzo Piano. Not about his stunning public and private buildings, but about an entirely different design form.

Sandcastles.

Piano, 77, has been building sandcastles man and boy, and has taught his children (ranging in age from 50 to 16) the craft for quite a long time as well. He says you can build them whatever your age, but it helps to think like a child. This is an approach to art that completely resonates with me.

You must first resign yourself to the knowledge that creating a sandcastle is a completely in-the-moment exercise. (“Totally useless,” he says.) Water—an integral component of construction—also carries the inevitability of its destruction. Whatever you build is going to get washed away before you pack up the beach towels. Deal with it.

(This is one of the reasons I totally love baristas who create latte art: it’s never going to last longer than the first sip. But it’s gorgeous while it’s there, and “the usefulness is in the act of the doing.”)

There are, of course, lots of elaborate sandcastle competitions, where people use all manner of tools to fabricate elaborate confections; I like that Piano is a hands-on kind of guy. I can attest to the sense of satisfaction that comes from both the feeling and the sound of small hands packing mud-like clomps of sand into place. You can use a pail and plastic shovel, but—as in making pastry—the magic is in the fingers.

I also like the way the architect connects the lessons learned while racing the waves to principles necessary for architects designing skyscrapers: physical laws, intuition, forces of nature.

So today I’m grateful for overhearing the conversation about the joy of creating something beautiful, of approaching it with the clarity of a child and of carrying the benefits with you long after the waves have washed away your creation.